


Wax

by Violet_Crown



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Character Study, Daydreaming, Elements of Horror, M/M, Psychological Horror, Surreal, Symbolism, Who needs plot when you have inner turmoil and symbolism?, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27064621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Crown/pseuds/Violet_Crown
Summary: The Detective Prince, The Fool, The Friend, The Traitor, The Orphan, The Puppet, The Child of Death, The Wax Figure: Goro Akechi.Goro mediates(broods) on his relationship with Ren as he and the world around him lose all sense and everything deteriorates around him. The pressure of maintaining his perfect image and retaining distance becomes too much and the temptation to let go and escape into fantasy is ever-present.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Wax

Goro is going to melt. He feels it. He let the inviting flame come too close. Hot wax dribbles down his sides. He feels it drip down his fingers. The first running droplet cools on the tip of his fingers before it can fall. But the next one to form is different. And the next. And the next. And the next. They keep falling. Drip. Drip. Drip. His skin melts off and runs down his hands and drips off his finger, falling to the floor. There is no splatter. The cold wax cools in midair. 

He is a figure made of wax. He stands in perfect form. He moulded himself this way. He is perfect. PERFECT! He measured out his proportions to the exact and right length. He’s a flawless sculpture for people to admire. But no touching says the sign.

And he’s ruined it! Fucking Ren Amamiya has ruined it. The burning that flickers inside his heart burst aflame and now the wax is melting. Does Ren even know what he’s done!? Or is he just so insignificant to him that he doesn’t care!?

Goro wants to scream and cry until his lungs burn just as much as the rest of his body. But no. He must stay perfectly still if he wants to retain his form. Ren may have tried to interfere with his fire, but Goro is stronger than him. He has moulded himself perfectly and everyone will love him. He just needs to keep the wax in place.

HOW STUPID IS HE!? WHAT IF HE RUINS EVERYTHING!?

Goro sighs calmly and tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. He blinks slowly and everything about him shines. Studio lights make him shine. Everything is perfect. He’s fine. He blinks once more. 

And action!

The studio lights are cool and they keep him frozen. Everything is perfectly in place. He can pretend he’s an ice sculpture, translucent and beautiful. Then his audience will do the rest. They project their ideas of grace and youth and skill onto him. Their ideas of perfection and acceptability. And at last, he is welcomed into the collective that for so long he had been rejected from.

Ren does the opposite of the safe cold studio lights and lifeless cameras. Even the thought of his arms around him make Goro melt. He uncomfortably clutches his arm forcing the skin to stay in place.

HOW COULD HE!? HOW DARE HE!?

They can’t know how ugly he is under the wax. He can’t let them see. Ren can’t know.

In the bathhouse, the air is hot and steamy. Ren’s pale skin is flushed.  _ Cute. _ No. He’s burning Goro up. The bathwater—already marking his skin crimson—doesn’t compare to the heat Ren emits. 

But the worst thing is what Goro does next. He peels back the wax.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.

He needed to. The air was just a little too hot and it was making his head spin. It was no fault of his. He just didn’t want it to fall into the murky water and that’s why. And with it, spills out the words. Bile and wax rise in his throat and out spills his past, his motives, and the ugliness underneath. 

He needs to think back to the cool studio lights hung up on frozen scaffolding. Cold smiles and icy cheer. It’s so easy. 

And then there’s Ren. His flames flicker and burn. He’ll tear through him like a wildfire. 

DOESN’T HE KNOW HOW MUCH FUCKING WORK HE PUT INTO THIS SHIT!? IS HE THAT SELFISH THAT HE’S GOING TO TRY TO RIP IT ALL AWAY!?

Goro has to extinguish that flame. The message has been etched into his skull with cold, uncaring hands. The chisel was not kind, but it made its point. He can’t let Ren burn him. 

The flame makes the white wax glow orange. It’s a soft glow. So pretty. He allows his flame to shine through him. He melts and his insides pool down at his feet. His blood runs down thick and crimson. But then it cools. It’s trapped at his sides, on his legs, on his arms. Trapped, it can’t escape. 

When he dips a hand into the wax it’s pleasantly warm. He expected it to be hot and burning. When he sculpted himself his hands burned and hot red marks scarred his palms for days afterwards. This is… nice. When Ren burns him up it’s nice. He might just let the wax melt away.

NO! PEOPLE CAN’T SEE HIM! HE’LL BE THROWN OUT! REJECTED!

Goro is melting every day. He smiles for the camera and the lenses glaciate him but even their monumental power isn’t enough.

Goro tugs at his hair and screams until his voice is hoarse and his throat and lungs burn. No, his sweet, honey voice... The flute-like sounds they said were human. He’s losing it. And he’s making him lose it. Ren is ruining him. 

Goro is melting every day. Ren doesn’t even have to be around him any more. Goro just thinks of his touch and his smile and melts and burns and wilts. 

His smile is the worst. When lips that usually sit in a straight line curve up Goro’s heart melts. There’s the smirk of a thief: Bold and brash. He’s amazing and he knows it. Then there’s the other one. Fond? Is that the right word? It’s small and often amused. It’s a subtle smile and it is oh so rare. And when Goro is allowed to see it chunks of hot wax falls from his chest leaving a twisting rib cage and a furiously beating heart.

DOESN’T HE KNOW!?

There’s a rotting corpse under the wax. Death’s touch brushed his skin before his own mother’s. Before he was brought into her cradling arms, Death held him. Death knew his child, the one born without life.

Goro is melting every day. Is Death finally coming back for him? Well, it’s nice to be wanted and if it’s by anyone it may as well be the one who first held him.

“Goro?”

Goro snaps his head up. So fast he thinks he hears a crack. Not that the wax is actually solid enough to crack.

“You okay?”

Ren’s looking at him. He’s sitting across from him at the Jazz Jin. Under the table, his foot lightly rests against his ankle. 

The singer is here tonight. Her honey-like voice swirls around the room. Goro just wants to sit back and listen. He wants her voice to fill his mind and nothing else. Sometimes his head feels like a cage even more than his body.

“Goro?”

There’s a hand on his arm. It’s hot, but not scalding. Pleasantly warm. Slowly Ren’s hand sinks into his skin. Goro yanks his arm back and tugs down his sleeve. 

He didn’t see, right?

Goro looks back up at Ren and knows immediately he has made a mistake. Ren’s dark grey eyes are wide and concerned and his brows knit together. He’s leaning forward in his seat. It’s not an exaggerated lean, it’s more unconscious as if drawn forward. Ren probably isn’t mindful of it, but Goro is. Sometimes Goro wished he had the talent to draw and capture his image… 

Goro leans back. “Ah sorry.” He folds his hands under the table. Out of sight, out of mind. That was the saying, wasn’t it? He can barely think.

He carefully brings up his non-scarred hand and brings his drink to his lips. His taste buds don’t work. He feels the cool liquid travel down his throat, but it may as well be water or better yet bleach. It doesn’t matter. It cools him down and takes his mind off the wildfire sitting across from him.

Goro sneaks a look at his hand, slowly tugging up the sleeve under the table. There’s a clear indent where Ren’s hand-marked his skin. He prods at it carefully. It’s already cooled into place. Shit. A permanent mark won’t be easy to hide.

THAT FUCKING BASTARD! HE’S RUINING EVERYTHING!

Goro looks up and smiles. It's the cool smile of the charming and handsome Detective Prince. “I apologise, I think I’ve become somewhat distracted.” He learns forward and rests the elbow of his unmarked arm on the table and rests his chin on his fist. He blinks. Once. Twice. Slowly. “What was it that you were saying, Ren?”

SHIT!

How could he make such a simple mistake? What was he doing calling him by his first name? 

Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya. Amamiya.

Such a stupid and simple mistake. He wants to pull at his hair and scream until his throat aches and the only sound that comes out are pained rasps. He wants to grab a cold metal baseball bat and slam it into Ren’s body until it dents. He knows exactly the smile he’ll wear. With a brush, he’ll paint on the grin of a villain. He can imagine it so clearly, as if it were worn by someone else. His lips will curl up like someone has attached hooks to the corners of his mouth and yanked them up.

Then Goro will take that bent golden bat and break his own legs. The snap and cracking of his bones will be the only sound he will hear. He’ll pin himself to the wall by his throat and press down, cutting his circulation. Then Goro will take the bat in his free hand and swing down. He’ll listen to his screams and tears and he’ll laugh at his own suffering. He’s removed. He is a watcher of his own life. He’s just an observer. He is a puppet and the strings are in someone else's hands. What else can he do? The wax will melt away, the bones underneath will shatter and finally once it is all said and done and Shido’s head is on a platter the wood underneath will splinter and he’ll let the caring hands of Death take him once again. 

“What would you do in a zombie apocalypse?” 

Goro chuckles. “Well, that is certainly different from our usual conversations.”

Ren shrugs. “I thought I’d change it up a bit.”

“I gather this is a common question people our age tend to ponder, what they’d do in different apocalypse and horror films despite the pointlessness of it all. You’re not usually one for the common questions.”

There is a hint of a smile on Ren’s face. “Unusual for us then. I’m sure you’ll find an interesting answer.”

“Well,” Goro says with a huff. He leans his cheek on one hand and ponders the question. “Zombies are stupid and clumsy. I’m sure I can survive such a farcical apocalypse. I mean I continue to survive everyday life don’t I?”

Ren raises his eyebrows. A clear message of ‘ _ go on’ _ . 

A sly smile spreads across Goro’s face. “Well, zombies are slow, dull, and form a collective which attacks anyone who doesn’t resemble them. I don’t see the difference between an incurable zombie horde and everyday society.”

Ren chuckles before quickly covering his mouth with his hand. Usually, he’s so stoic. Heat flickers in Goro’s chest and his traitorous heart burns him alive. 

“Quite the observation,” Ren says, speaking through the gaps between his fingers. “I don’t think many people would believe just how cynical you are.”

Goro shrugs and leans back. “I don’t care. You’re the only one who’s allowed to know that side of me.” He shoots a look back to Ren. “But I do warn you, if you are careless, there will be consequences.”

Ren pinches his fingers together and slides them across his lips in a zipping motion. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Goro forces himself not to flinch or react. How little Ren knows. How little he can let him know. It’s a promise of silence Goro wishes he could break. Parts of him want to scream at Ren that he needs to expose him. Perform an autopsy on his decaying corpse and find out just how deep the rot goes. 

“Maybe you should be more careful around someone with so many secrets,” Goro says. What is he saying!? He needs a warning. He wants to shake Ren and scream at him. He wants to tell him exactly what is going to happen. He wants to call Loki and force Ren to look at him. He wants to watch Ren flinch away and desert him. He needs Ren to lose all trust in him and—

No. He has a mission. If he doesn’t get rid of Ren then he’ll never be able to fully gain Shido’s trust. He’s so close. He can feel it. 

He catches a smile. 

“What!?” He demands.

Ren shakes his head. “Nothing. I just like it when you look so lost in your own thoughts.”

Hatred burns within him. 

A fake future plucks at his heartstrings and Ren plays him like a fiddle. He’s held with expert hands. Fast fingers hold the right frets and press gently on the strings. The bow is pressed back and forth to a beat only Ren knows. Like a child following the piper, Goro is taken in. The friction of the bow against strings sparks and ignite. His traitorous imagination takes the reins, led by the music Ren creates.

A warm smile. A grossly idealised field of flowers. His back presses against the grass, warmed by the comforting rays of the sun. Flowers surround them. He doesn’t know their names and doesn’t really care. But the pink ones are the ones he likes the most. Sets of petals flare out from each, emerging from yellow centres. Ren lists off the names of the wildflowers. He works—worked at a flower shop in the Shibuya underground mall. But that’s so far away now. They’re in this field in nowhere. In the comforting hands of the void. Cupped hands hold dirt, grass, flowers, the two of them no longer separated by a cruel reality. 

The wax melts away into the grass and the wood rots away. A skeleton lies in the field. No, not a skeleton. Because in this idealised impossible plane of existence he’s no longer Death’s child. What is he then? Who is he? He’s never allowed himself to exist, not really. He’s always had a goal he’s needed to achieve. He needs something to drive him because without that who is he?

He’s slapped back to reality. Is that really the threshold of his immersion? He knows at a point he must have existed without goal or mission… he remembers… not really… 

Impress his mum. Make people like him. Adapt to the wishes of others. Construct a puppet out of wood and wants and hide it within your skeleton. It was the first present ever given to him by the first person who ever held him. Then cover the construction and Death’s gift with wax. Melted candles and learnt behaviours moulded into the mask he wears. The smile he paints on his face every morning. He is an artist and he is an expert in his craft.

But the dream still tugs at him. Such is the allure of unreality. 

Goro melts. Hot wax pours down his arms and legs and down his chest. He sinks down the chair, flowing down the wood. Ren sits across from him in a cold metal room at a cold metal table on a cold metal chair. Still, the sharp chill of polished steel isn’t enough to stop Goro’s descent as he drips down into the floorboards. The blood that runs down Ren’s forehead isn’t enough to stop him this time and he sinks through the floorboards and down into the depths. 

“So when you solve the mental shutdown cases, what do you plan to do, Mister detective?” the interviewer asks.

Goro laughs, light and empty. “Thank you for your trust in me. I only hope to live up to the expectations set for me, but I don’t believe it will be too much of a challenge. Once I capture the culprit I’ll move onto other cases. It may be naive, but I just want to help people and I believe with my position as a detective I will be able to do just that.” 

Each word that comes from his mouth is ice. He’s surprised he manages to toss them from his mouth before they freeze in place. Frozen lies that everyone loves.

Goro smiles. He closes his eyes and tilts his head a few degrees to the right. It’s considered endearing and the people will love it. “I really do just want to help people. I believe my justice will improve society.”

The interviewer asks him another question. Goro nods and lets the bullshit spill from his mouth. He reaches out and turns the cogs in his mind. The automaton that is him kicks into gear.

He tried doing this with Ren once. Usually, he gets so caught up in their conversations it’s impossible to get distracted but it had been a busy day and he had just stormed a particularly odious palace that refused to retract its claws. Ren—too smart for the average drivel of fancy restaurants and the best spots in the city—sunk his claws in too. He doesn’t even want to think of the burn marks he has to clean up that night.

WHY ARE YOU LETTING HIM CONTROL YOU LIKE THIS!? YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE STRONG!

Goro asks his mind—as one asks a machine—to conjure up a fight. He might toy with his prey… 

He’ll take that gun and point it against Ren’s head and— a-and— his head falls limp onto the table. It sounds like watermelon flesh being pummeled into by the hands of an SFX team. 

It’s a production with actors and characters to become. They’ll eat at a banquet of fruit and meat laid out on ornate porcelain plates. Violence is just the sounds of a baseball bat hitting a leather jacket, an axe chopping into a watermelon, smashing a cooked chicken, twisting King Crab legs, breaking carrots, snapping celery in half. 

Blood pours from the hole in his head. It smells sweet. A mixture of red and blue food dye, corn syrup, and flour. It would taste like sugar. Goro isn’t going to touch it of course. That would ruin the facade. 

While the security camera will be turned off but the cameras will still be rolling. There are only two people with the ability to turn them off and all of them will die by his hand. While it’s on he can’t drop the mask. 

“Answer one final question for me?”

“Of course.”

The reporter shifts her chin into her hand and a sly smile spreads across her face. “Does the famous Detective Prince have a special someone?”

Goro laughs politely. “I’m afraid my line of work doesn’t allow me to develop such connections.”

“Is that so?”

Ren links their hands together under the table. “I’ve thought about it.”

“About what?”

“What you said before. How you wanted me to join you.”

Goro scoffs. “That was… a moment of weakness, not a genuine question.”

“Let’s run away together.” Despite the corny wording, from his expression, he looks to be serious.

Goro fixes him with a glare. “You would just leave the friends who care about you, a web of confidants who want you around, and a family who... who would probably be concerned if you suddenly disappeared.” He scoffs. “I’m not taking that away from you.”

This is wrong. He could look at his hands then look away. If they’re disfigured or some odd colour then that may confirm he’s in a dream. He could pick up the menu and see if he’s able to properly read the words he could—

“My family couldn’t give less of shit about me.”

“Re—”

“And I can stay in contact with my friends.”

“Ren—”

“But don’t you just want to escape everything? To get away from everything?”

“This isn’t you,” Goro hisses. “You don’t run away from things and neither do I!” There’s no way it’s possible. Shido would hunt him down and kill him. Then they’d both die. Still… to die by his side wouldn’t be such a bad way to go. 

He’s still holding Ren’s hand under the table. He doesn’t know how he forgot. With how his skin bubbles and blisters at the contact it should be impossible. Well, sometimes it’s not so bad to let yourself burn. Sometimes it’s not so bad to just ignore the red hot pain and hold on. He retracts his hand and plants it firmly by his side. 

Ren leans back in his seat and looks to the side. Goro lets his stiffened shoulders relax. Goro can't help but pay keen attention to the way Ren holds himself, he looks down and away, still trying to look relaxed and casual with hands in pockets. His glasses slip down his nose, but his black curls still cover his eyes. 

“It was something a friend made me consider…” 

The heat in Leblanc’s attic is suffocating. 

Goro doesn’t mind it all he can think about is Ren sitting next to him. And the warmth of the place isn’t so bad. Goro’s muscles, usually so tense, begin to relax. It’s a welcome heat.

Ren brings himself to his feet and throws his glasses where he had been sitting on the bed. He offers his hand. “Care for a dance?”

Goro wordlessly takes it. Ren links their fingers together and pulls them together. Goro can’t help but laugh. They’re so close he can feel his chest moving against Ren’s. It’s all so absurd. 

It’s a waltz. He learnt it once—at some type of function.  _ Awfully pretentious _ , he remembers thinking.

Ren leads and Goro follows. It’s a very basic version of the dance.

Forward with left foot

Back with right foot

Side with right foot

Side with left foot

Close left foot to right foot

Close right foot to left foot

Back with right foot

Forward with left foot

Side with left foot

Side with right foot

Close right foot to left foot

Close left foot to right foot

“Usually there’s music,” Goro says. 

Ren smiles. “I can sing if you like?”

“You can sing?”

“I’m good at it.”

“You’re cocky, that’s what you are.”

Ren chuckles then begins to sing; but when he opens his mouth, the voice that comes out sounds like it’s being played through an old grainy microphone. 

_ If it takes forever, I will wait for you  _

_ For a thousand summers, I will wait for you  _

_ Till you're back beside me, till I'm holding you  _

_ Till I hear you sigh here in my arms _

Goro sways in rhythm, following Ren’s movements. Soft golden light shines through the window, bathing Ren’s messy bed in a warm glow. 

_ Anywhere you wander, anywhere you go  _

_ Every day just remember how I love you so  _

_ In your heart believe what in my heart I know  _

_ That forevermore I'll wait for you _

Goro lets himself focus on the movements and the sway of their bodies. His chest is pushed up against Ren’s, held in place by his hand. Goro has the hand not holding Ren’s on his shoulder, pressed against his arm. 

_ The clock'll tick away the hours one by one  _

_ Then the time will come when all the waiting's done  _

_ The time when you return and find me here and run  _

_ Straight to my waiting arms  _

The old wooden floorboards creak as they step over them, but Goro knows they won’t be disturbing anyone downstairs. They are the last two people in the world and they are dancing together. For a brief moment, they can be together with nothing tethering them down.

_ If it takes forever, I will wait for you  _

_ For a thousand summers, I will wait for you  _

_ Till you're here beside me, till I'm touching you  _

_ And forevermore sharing your love _

The heat is suffocating in Leblanc’s attic. 

Goro doesn’t mind it all he can think about is Ren’s lips moving against his. He reaches up a hand and trails it through his hair. It’s so soft. He other hand cups his face, his skin is hot to the touch, but Goro couldn’t care less. 

STOP! 

He feels Ren’s own hands. One sits on his hip and the other traces a line down his back. 

STOP! STOP! 

Goro begins to melt and his skin gives way to Ren’s hands and his mouth against his. 

STOP! STOP! STOP!

Goro pulls back, but only slightly so their noses are still touching. He twists one of Ren’s curls around his finger. “I’m going to have to kill you tomorrow.”

Ren’s hand—scorching hot—holds his face and he kisses him again. Goro closes his eyes and lets himself sink

Slowly 

Down,

Drifting gently 

Into the waking dream.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Ren sings is Bobby Darin's 'I Will Wait for You'. Although it doesn't really fit the time frame where this fic takes place, it does work really well for post-third semester Akeshu. Connie Francis also has a really good version, tho (to me at least) in her version it feels like the speaker won't ever find the person they're waiting for, but in Darin's version if feels like they'll meet again so I prefer it more. But both are incredible.
> 
> Plot twist: The fic was actually just a really weird advertisement for 'I Will Wait for You'.


End file.
